` * bring me to life

[` isabella leila upshaw]

isabella ,

frozen inside without your touch, without your love
darling, only you are the life among the dead

The mirror reflection of me looked no different than it did any other, strangely enough. I felt that some change should have occurred in my features. When such tumultous differences have been made on the inside, shouldn't the outside suffer from the same effect? My eyes were the same impossible baby blue, my hair still hung in long, brown curls. I was thinking about cutting it short. I needed a dramatic change, some difference to represent what I'd went through in the past month. I was sure the guys here in Laudeville would find that as funny as my face, pale and lifeless. I couldn't recall the last time I'd been outside, but my tan was suffering. There were purple bags under my lids, and my blood colored my skin a soft red in places, because I had no makeup on. I hadn't bothered with it in the past few months when I knew I would have a guaranteed breakdown sometime during the day. No use putting on what would be washed away in hours. However, this morning, I felt strong. I looked at the creepy little version of Alice in my looking glass. Bloodshot blue eyes stared back, veins popping against the yellowed white of a hangover. Maybe I wasn't feeling as strong as I'd thought.

A quivering hand raised a black eyeliner pencil to my lids and drew a thick dark line on my upper and lower lashlines, but it was crooked, and I had to cover up my mistakes with black shadow and mascara until I looked just the same as a few months ago. Why I couldn't just keep things light and pretty like the other girls irked me. Not just on my face, no. I didn't have the nerve to get worked up over makeup. Well, perhaps today, but on no other occasion, would it make me so mad. I'd always talked with Gerard about the things that made me upset, I'd cried with him, he cried with me. Maybe we'd been too honest with each other. That's why he killed himself. Because I couldn't keep things light and simple. I covered up my mistakes with more lies and troubles. Frustrated, I flung the pencil and shadow case into the mirror and threw myself upon my bed with a bounce. I growled and tensed my arms, fists clenched, and let out a few heavy exhales. I didn't want to look the same as I did a few weeks ago. I wanted to be over Gerard, for God's sake. He hadn't loved me anyway. If he'd cared enough, he wouldn't have committed suicide. If he'd cared he would have made sure I wouldn't find him hours later, hanging in his basement. His dead eyes I could not shake from my mind. Everything else. But his cold gaze stayed etched in the corners of my brain.

I rose from the bed and went to my closet. I'd had enough of this prison, and felt like I needed desperately to break away. I looked through the closet and found my frustration only growing deeper. Why did every piece of clothing have to remind me of him? I pulled a black lace top from the back of the tiny dorm closet and ripped off my white shirt, taking a moment to look in the mirror. I didn't look as good as I had last year, when I used to lie in Gerard's bed, and he would tell me how beautiful I looked. I'd come close to losing my virginity to him, but he'd always said we would save it for marriage. He would joke with me that he just liked to look. Since his death, I'd been trying my hardest to stay covered up, to look as ugly as possible in order to make sure no guy would like me. I didn't want to be hurt again. I pulled the shirt on, exchanged my ratty shorts for a pair of jeans, and grabbed flat, black patent boots at the door. I would admit that I slammed the heavy thing as it left, but only to myself. If I had woken anyone else in this early morning hour, they would certainly be mad. I wasn't sure that I could handle a confrontation today. It might just make my breaking point.

God, just thinking about him drove me crazy. The sunlight streaming through the windows seemed to have a black hint to it, a demented quality. The sun came up to burn ants through magnifying glasses, to wake lovers from their beds, where they would feud moments later. The sun was here to bring down the lonely and hold happiness in their faces ever so tauntingly. I came to the window and shut the curtains tersely.

I remembered tugging at his jeans leg, it was the only thing I could reach from my short height. I remembered hoping that in some blessing, he had been spared. But his neck had snapped, and the tug had brought his stiff body crashing to the floor. Mine followed, seconds later, arms over his chest, ears searching madly for the heartbeat that had faded away. Tears slid onto his white shirt, splattered with dried blood from his wrists. He'd cut them, apparently. My lips on his, begging him to come back. The way the dagger shone in the dim light of the basement as I held it above my head and tried to bring up the courage to go with Gerard. The terrible regret and guilt I felt as I left his basement, afraid to do what I wanted, and closed the door on the dead body. On everything I'd had before. I hadn't seen his face since that day. For all I knew, his body was still down there, rotting away.

Funny how the rough material of the drapes had reminded me of the denim of his jeans. But it was enough. All the anger directed towards myself and the fear that I would actually kill myself within the next week was enough. Tears flooded my eyes, and the black streaked down my face. I was alone in the dorm hall. I crashed against the wall with a thud and slid down to the ground, sobbing into my hands. How I'd ever let it all get this bad, I would never know. 'Gerard... Why did you have to leave me? Why couldn't I just be brave and go with you?' A few more tears slid from my baby blue eyes. 'I would have saved myself so much trouble.

Word Count 1089
All content c) Copyright Awry at Forever and Always.

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[darren]

My temples throbbed with racing blood, the room spun at the opening of my eyes. The small dorm was not recognizable in my drunken stupor. Where was I? Who, or rather who had I done last night? Opening my lids fully again I let my bloodshot eyes reach across the room. The spinning wasn’t so severe anymore, it must’ve been in the Braxton blood to let go of a hangover so quickly. I could already sense the usual clarity and practicality seeming into my mind. Like ink from a fountain pen leaking and making webs on clear white parchment. The room was becoming more familiar with each passing second. The Maxim calendar was the spark that fired the engine in my mind. Of course Rhodri hadn’t changed the month, hell the year. Still the African American woman grinned, half clothed, across the room. So, I was sure that nothing happened last night, but why was I sharing a room with a buddy from the football team? I wasn’t into jock guys, hell not even drunk. I made be Bisexual, but only if I’m really horny and needy. I couldn’t remember being horny or needy last night. In fact I couldn’t remember last night. My knees were pretty strong and steady, considering a minute or two ago I could barely look into the dark blue abyss of the wall.

The first few steps were upsetting to the stomach, hopefully Rhodri’s dorm had a kitchenette. Some of the newer dorms were built more like little apartments than dorms. Luckily I was a townie kid, my aunt lived right here in Laudeville, so I never had to stay on campus. The door swung behind me tapping my toned buns. The sensation made my neck turn almost a full one hundred and eighty degrees. The lack of forward vision cause a slight incident. My stomach collided with the short counter top. My feet slipped on the linoleum floors. Then there I was flat on my ass in the middle of my British mate’s dorm.


I heard soft, half awake laughter from behind me. Shakily getting on my feet left me gazing to the top hair of the lean teen’s head. I was at least taller than the running back by four inches. “Oi, mate? Look like you got a ruddy bad fall on your ‘ead” His lack of American speech and the way he slurred his words informed me that he was as tired as me, it seemed like no rest had become of my body last night. “Thank Rhodri, erm, why did I stay the night” Curiosity flamed from my voice. The look on my partner in crime’s face was like I’d smacked him a good one on the shoulder. “Well mate, you wouldn’t stop talking about some Angela chick, and crying. We all ‘ad to bring you ‘ere for the night.” The sincerity in his voice was almost overwhelming. Was I actually talking about her again. “Mom?” My voice cracked with emotion, I still couldn’t let it go. Counselling didn’t help, attempting suicide only made other suffer. The sacrifice of her life was imprinted on me like the scars from the glass. My infant skin was lacerated from the crash. The only factor keeping me alive was my mother’s chest cavity saving my little bones from getting ground into powder like grain in a mill.

Small tears made their way down my cheeks. Large fumbling hands wiped them away. Looking I saw Rhodri with his all too professional look on his face. His combination of jock and boy next door was slightly odd to see. His manliness shone while he was being comforting and reassuring. Most likely a practiced state. He, like others, was going into psychology for University. I was going for the girls and drinks. This was the reason I was at his place, the other guys knew he could deal with my hurricane of emotions in the morning. “Listen Christian, do you want to stay here today?” He used my nick name, he was serious. The offer was really welcomed, but there was practice today, and couch would kill me if I missed the practice. “I can’t but thanks mate. I owe you” Rhodri scoffed, like he hadn’t heard that before. With all the times he’d used his skills at talking to people’s emotions to save me from trouble I owed him more than I had.

There was something he wanted, but I could never give it to him. He wanted a good lover, but I wasn’t into him. He was bi as well, but he wasn’t my type. Maybe I’d hook him up one day, I heard that elite is gay, whatshisname, William Weller? Yeah that’s the one. Breakfast was the usual, just a shake from the fridge. Nothing more was said, the air was littered with recognizable feelings. He knew I didn’t want to talk. I knew that he expected me not to talk. Turning my back to leave I heard something behind me. Rhodri’s air caught in his throat. Throwing a apologetic look from behind my shoulder I walked out of the room. He was shocked at the cuts on my back. I’d have to make sure not to let him see the results from my past suicide attempts. At least for his sanity, cause tonight for once I knew that someone would be worrying about me. I had to give my jock friend one thing, he could be a sissy boy when his head wasn’t in the game.
The door closed almost silently behind me, leaving an echo in the halls. It must’ve been before eight in the morning, no one was up yet. Or was I a Saturday? I’ve lost track of time from one drunk, must’ve been pretty bad. Walking to the entrance a familiar sound hit my ear drums. Usually when I heard this it was deeper and more rocking, it was mine. The sobs got louder and louder as I made my way towards the front entrance. Turning the corner I was taken by surprise. A little girl was crying near the front of a dark mahogany door. Sobs made her body spasm, she wasn’t in control of her emotions, I’d been there before. “Miss, are you okay? My words nothing but sincere, maybe the same thing had happened to her. Maybe her life was scar tissue like mine. Walking towards her with hands in full view as to not scar her. I came within a few inches. Leaning into her I pulled her into a supportive hug. The ones I’d received from Rhodri time after time before. They helped a little, and I knew that. Hopefully, for at least this girl they had the same effect.

Word Count: 1133

[` isabella leila upshaw]

isabella ,

so i am yours if you want me
&& i am sorry if you do

Footsteps down the hall. I knew it wasn't right to be so on edge about all of this, but in my defense, no one had ever approved of my tears. I would try to hide them away, but it was impossible now. My baby blue eyes were bloodshot and still streaming salt-water when I lifted my head from my hands. Through the blur, I wasn't absolutely sure, but he looked terribly beautiful. My gut wrenched in pain. I hadn't seen a person who'd attracted me so strongly since I caught my first glimpses of Gerard. It wasn't easy to remember the good times, though they should have been the ones I wanted to. The happy moments I'd first shared with Darren, the fleeting glances, the first kisses were the hardest to recall and bring back because now I had to face how it felt without the happiness. Empty and gray, Gerard had brought the color into my world, and he'd taken it all away. Miss, are you okay? I most certainly was not. I lifted my head a little higher, determined to prove otherwise. Chin up, little soldier. Haven't I already answered that one?

[/b] I said it as casually as an introduction, my name or where I was born, like any other person he'd meet. The nonchalance of it all bit harder than the bark. I'd been determined to leave it there, and allow him to keep walking, but the boy didn't seem to want to stop at that. He squatted down to my level and pulled me into him, hugging me. For a moment I was stunned enough not to push him away. I was too caught up in awe for fright or self-defense. A wave of strong, spicy cologne hit me like a wave and the soft fabric of his shirt enclosed me like a baby's blanket. Underneat the thin cotton I could feel his muscles, bone and skin move around me, molding to my petite, bony figure. I took in a deep gasp; I hadn't been hugged since the night before Gerard killed himself. And that was from a now dead man. To feel living flesh around my cold skin, warming up, to feel hot breath on my neck, giving me goosebumps, was refreshing. I felt alive again. I felt loved. I felt awake enough to realize what I was doing, move my hands to his biceps, which I hated to admit were very well-developed, and push him away. What do you think you're doing?[/b] I tried to imitate the cool indifference that had come so effortlessly in my voice moments before, but failed. The sound coming from my lips sounded like that which would come from a child's. Timid and scared, quivering and shaky. Without moving, I had removed my mask. His arms had fallen from around me, but I realized I hadn't let go. Releasing my fingers one by one, I allowed myself to release the boy and lean back against the wall. I had been leaning into the welcome embrace. It almost hurt to have made him go away.

My baby blues flashed wildly, desperate for a way to draw him back in. I had to convince him I wasn't the awful, rude person I'd just shown him. This was the first contact I'd had in months, the first real contact I'd had in half a year with a man. And he'd come to me on his own accord. Albeit, I was crying, and men are always drawn to the shaky little birds with bloody feathers, but I could fly, too. I heard a terrible rendition of 'Broken Wings' swelling in my head. I hit 'mute' and tuned back into the boy in front of me.

He looked like he was about to leave, I'm sure he thought I was crazy. So are you the dorm psychologist or something? Or do you just have a lot of nerve?[/b] My tone was warmer, a little more welcoming, or really, less enraged. But the words had come just as harshly if you listened. Goodness, it'd been so long since I'd talked to a real person that I didn't know how. The telemarketers called my dorm every once in awhile, but everyone knew they were machines or an imitation of real people, almost like paid actors in an infomercial. That didn't pass for a real conversation. Only in this moment did I realize I'd been depriving myself by staying locked away from the world. I was not invincible, and though I might have only been a shell of the girl I once was, I was still a living, breathing human beign. And I longed for friends, for someone to talk too. I had a funny way of showing it, but I was having the most fun I'd had in weeks by being rude to this boy right now. I just prayed he bounced back quickly and didn't take my sarcasm the wrong way. I was enjoying this, I really was. I just couldn't quite yet deal with my attraction to him. I knew I should still be in love with Gerard. And it was okay, because I would always be in love with Gerard. I would never stray, even though he'd moved on to another place. And this new boy I'd just met would make no difference in my inconsequential existence.

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Word Count 892
All content c) Copyright Awry at Forever and Always.[/size][/blockquote]

[darren]

Soft hands struggled against my chest. Reaching against my scar ridden pectoral muscles. The quite attractive girl was trying to push me off her. Parts of my conscious fought over her freedom, what if she wasn’t into hugs? Maybe she needed one though. Hugs almost always helped I’d learned that from Rhodri. The truth to that may not be quite full, I’d seen him making glances before. Still hugs couldn’t hurt, right? Letting my grip on the smaller denizen, letting her decide for me, either she could take the hug or she could push herself away from me. Letting my arms become limp for a second I was surprised at her hesitation. I could feel a part of her wanting to stay, and yet another bigger part was pushing her away. Wow, did I honestly just pick up on that, maybe I shouldn’t watch Dr. Phil with Rhod anymore, it was harming my usually ignorant brain cells.

Falling away from me she looked scared, as if I was the source of her problems. The thought of such a pretty young girl seeing me as such a monster from the few words I spoke, almost made my stomach flounder. Was she being abused? Maybe another man was the cause of the hurt she was feeling. A hurt that seemed to deeply imbedded that I didn’t even think Dr. Phil could give a magical cure to. Whatever this man was doing to her he was going to pay for his crimes against her. Usually I was passive on subjects like these, but this girl was different. Her pain seemed to be one that was like mine, like the tattoo of a heartache. Instinctively I wanted to hold her high and steal her pain away. Something told me that trying to help her was not going to happen until she opened the real girl up to me. Until she let the beauty of her unguarded personality stand alone. I couldn’t even tell why I thought so highly of her, maybe the connection of pain between us was enough to attract me to her like a fly to light. Whatever it was seemed to only affect me, I couldn’t see any looks of wonder at me. Her eyes just seemed dead, like she’d been crying for weeks. Her makeup was smeared down her cheeks, pooling in the craters in her skin that probably once had been light happy dimples. Reaching out with the sleeve of my black dress shirt I wiped the smeared eye liner and mascara off her cheeks the best I could. She’d most likely need more time in the washroom to clean up, but anything to let her keep the little bit of dignity she had left. It seemed that if she was prone to crying in a hallway like this she not much dignity was given to her from others. Little looked to be held onto either.


Finally she spoke, letting the silence still echo around her weak and lifeless voice. Her words were emotionless almost like script being read by a poor acting fifth grader. She seemed to stumble with her words, like they awkwardly fit into her mouth. Somehow it made me picture someone inserting a small square into a larger round hole. It still fit and went thorough, but all in all it wasn’t quite right. There was something off to her speech, maybe she’d just learned the English language, or maybe no one really talked to her. I knew what it was like to be an outsider, in most respects I still was an outsider. No one knew what I felt half the time, my emotions and thoughts were not of their norm. Choosing my words carefully I spoke calmly and reassuring, like Rhodri and Mrs. Stevens, the school guidance and bereavement head councillor, had to me many times before. “I’m not a shrink m’am. I’m just wondering what a pretty little thing like you is doing crying out in the halls.” It felt odd to be the one of the listener’s side of the conversation. A little pleasing, I wasn’t getting grilled and I could actually relate to there people. Maybe I should go change my courses to psychology based ones. I might get around to that sometime, and then again maybe not. Academics aren’t my thing. Calmly I took another step towards her and held out my arms again, this time she’d be able to choose the grounds and conditions of the hug. She could even decline, as long as she was okay. That was the most important thing here.

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[` isabella leila upshaw]

isabella ,

so i am yours if you want me
&& i am sorry if you do

I was taken aback. This boy who I didn't even know had created an awful, horrible upset that made me feel like he'd jerked the rug out from under my feet. Not in the literal sense, I was flat on my back, but in the literal sense, I was left breathless. What surprised me most about this boy was that my words hadn't scared him away. He seemed none the richer, none for the worse off. He was independent enough that I hadn't changed him, and I hadn't seen a person like this since Gerard. Yet, I recalled, how cruel I'd been to him when we'd first met. I was a shadow of the hardened girl I was then, though so much better off. Funny how pain makes you stronger and weaker at the same time. He called me ma'am. I'd heard articles where forty-year-old women moaned and groaned at politeness. I could see how it might have made them feel a little awkward, as I did now, but I warmed to his kindness, too. The second shocker of his words, he called me pretty. This was the most confusing thing he'd said within our short ten seconds of meeting. I couldn't believe what he was telling me. If I'd thought he was thinking anything of me, it would be that he was laughing on the inside at such a pitiful, broken down creature. I wasn't put together enough to be called human anymore. There was a rabid animal instinct inside of me, an intense desire for survival that kept me away from this boy. He could weaken me. One look at his sweet face told me that. But he'd told me I was pretty. I tried not to get too excited and clenched my hands in concentration.

I looked at the carpet, an attempt not to stare at the boy's brown eyes. He seemed so kind, so gentle. Somebody that would be able to help me, if only I would let these stubborn walls around me down. I'd kept myself locked away from the world too long, and it should be time now, a year after Gerard's suicide, to let someone in again. The only thing keeping him out now was the fear that we would fall in love. I could see the stars in his eyes through the tears. It wasn't hard, they were shining so brightly, like diamonds at midnight. Two things. First of all, I found this whole 'you're pretty and I want to help' act very appealing, and second of all, I didn't know this beautiful child's name. I shifted on the floor, and looked up at him again. I had to talk to him, I just had to. Even if it meant falling in love again. 'Y-You think I'm pretty?' I whispered, my voice had cracked, and I couldn't raise it above a soft hiss of breath. As if he hadn't heard me, or was answering in a physical way, he held out his arms again.

Decision time. I hesitated, finding myself staring at his well muscled chest, left vulnerable with his open arms, wide and waiting for me to fill the empty space. I sucked in a deep breath, smelling him again and like a tidal wave, rushed forward to nearly knock him over. I knew it was sudden, but I'd been so afraid that he would be the one changing his mind and pull back the arms that now held me. He felt like Gerard. I began to sob again, into his chest, and we stood like that for a long time. I tried to suck it up and dry the tears that continued to fall from my eyes, but now that I'd finally found someone who cared, I had to show him all of me. I had to let him know what hurt before he could fix it. 'What's ... your name?' I managed to get out through the sobs. If I wasn't so distraught, I might have found it funny that I still struggled to reach my goal throughout all this madness. It was like trying to flirt from a hospital bed or the grave. Useless and distracting from the main problem. Yet I was desperate to learn the name of this savior that had come to rescue me from despair. I hated to sound so cheesy. I needed to lighten up. Yet again it became clear that I wasn't used to talking to people. I wondered how many more seconds he could endure of holding me up, of suffering through these one-sided conversations of mine. I wondered how many seconds it would take him to realize I wasn't off the deep end, but drowning in my own personal ocean. I wondered if he would leave after all this way he'd brought me in half a minute.


Word Count 805
All content c) Copyright Awry at Forever and Always.

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[shameless]

The girl’s obvious surprise at my kind words had me taken aback, did she really think she wasn’t pretty. “Well of course I think so, why do you think I’d say otherwise?” I tried to line my voice will more intrigue than sympathy, but truly all I felt towards her mental state was sympathy at the moment, but then again opinions change often, am I not right? Next minute I could be appalled at this creature. She seemed so timid and sad, like my compliments were harsh and bitter insults. I knew that by shooting insults I would only be strengthening her already well built walls. Kindness was my weapon for helping this girl, it was helping destroy her walls leaving her pure essence exposed. This scared her, looking at her timid skeletal structure I could tell. She looked much too thin for her own skin. Almost like she’d quit eating. Maybe she had, how was I to know until she told me herself. Forcing her wasn’t going to help, so maybe just maybe I could love her walls down. I could show this girl the love she was lacking from herself.

Taking my eyes off her for a moment to check my watch I was almost flew off my feet. Only one thing was keeping me to the floor, her body. She was really small compared to me. It felt as if my slightest touch could shatter her all too breakable bones. Little shakes began to shake her body, making their way into mine, then the ground. Going back to nothing but air. The small sobs filled the still air, causing something paternal to flame in my heart. I felt a love for this girl, although we just met, I wanted to make her happy. Slowly pulling my arms around her like a cape I covered her petite stature in my taller, more muscular frame. Her body rocked like the tide against a dock. The object still staying in tact but being twisted and forced upon. My soul was the dock, having her little sobs connect with it like well landed punches. Somehow her pain was leaking into me, like a contamination of poisons to the being. Her was leaking into me. I wanted to cry, feel her sorrow myself. I wanted to be able to connect with her on a level where no one was losing anything.


The sobs started to climax. Rubbing my arms on her slim boned shoulders. I cooed small lyrics into her ear. “will never let you fall . I'll stand up with you forever. I'll be there for you through it all . Even if saving you sends me to heaven” Her sobs soon stopped, whether it was my poor deep vocals or she was really feeling better I couldn’t tell. All I knew was that the sorrow flowing over me was beginning to be less and less of a burden. “What…..What’s your name?”. Sobs still crept at the edge of her voice, seemingly receded. Hopefully back into a place where it couldn’t seep out so easily.


“Darren Christian Braxton, Chrisian is what my friends call me.” Something played along her face. Amusement? Most likely, who wasn’t amused at my mother’s poor choice in names. But what can I do, the dead deserve respect, so my name will stay as a reminder of the imprint my mother had on this world. “Don’t ask, it’s a really old fashioned name. May I ask you name hon?”

Her looked to me that she was a person with a contradicting name herself. Ironically first thing that came to mind was sunshine when I saw her. Why did the pretty girls with hurt egos always have such pretty names, it seemed like a conspiracy of sorts. Or maybe Rhod had just made me spend too much time watching chick flicks in the past. Either way, this girl was bound to have a beautiful name. One that made other girls, like the ones named sarah or jane, green with pure undiluted envy. Looking into her perfectly green eyes I saw pain, and question. Was she hesitating to tell me? Was it a private affair, maybe she didn’t want me to go and tell the counsellors. ‘This is just between you and me here sweetie, no one else.”

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OCC: Sorry If Its Not Great. I Did It On My Coffee Break

WordCount: 725

[` carter alyssa westwood]

isabella ,

so i am yours if you want me
&& i am sorry if you do

His answer, so certain, no wavering between yes or no, was nearly enough to knock me unconcious. The world was spinning backwards on it's axis and I found it very hard to get my feet underneath me. I blushed, staring at the floor once again. It'd been so long since anyone had been nice to me, let alone a boy smiling and holding me. I guess it was because I hadn't let anyone in since Gerard's death. I hadn't exactly opened the door for this guy either, but I guess he found the window. Because I was sick of trying not to enjoy the compliments and the smiles, and I was beginning to get the feeling that he might make me stronger, instead.

I used to be pretty. Not anymore. I cry too often, I don't care about my appearance. I murmered, speaking only to the wall, but my words loud enough for Christian to hear. The question of whether I thought he was handsome or not crossed my mind. The answer sped through before the question had finished it's run. Of course, I did. He was lovely, but I had to deny it. Indecision still haunted my body and mind.

And then I started to cry. He was holding me, singing in my ear. It drove me crazy because it only made him that much harder to resist. I wanted desperately now to take his hand, to kiss him, but I couldn't for the memory of Gerard. What would he think if he found me making out in the hallway with a practical stranger? Makeup blurred, ratty clothes on, fresh tears still rolling down my cheeks. It would break his heart. And so, I just leaned into this beautiful child's chest and allowed him to to do whatever he wanted. I wouldn't say no. I just wouldn't start anything.

His name seemed to fit. Christian Braxton. Well, at least the first name. He was so kind, giving everything to me and expecting nothing in return. I'd grown up in a protestant church and used to be very strong in my faith, but I'd been shaken. I wondered if maybe someday he could be the one to bring me back to it. Even if he wouldn't stand in the pews with me and sing the hymns, it didn't matter. He'd already shown me that chivalry was not dead, and there was still sympathy for the broken left in the world. And I was already beginning to question why I'd ever strayed when I'd already gone so far away from home. I was lost, and I was only running away more from my destination.

And so, in this realization and sudden urge to return to the pure, clean girl I used to be, I answered, appropriately, with my christian name. Isabella Leila Upshaw.

[/b] I murmered softly, my fingers curling back to my palms. Now he knew my name, my face, my identity. There was no going back. We would pass in the halls one day and he would remember when he'd been there to hold me up. He would recall how dependent I'd been and how ugly I looked when I cried. And for that reason, I figured it was time to duck out. No reason not to quit while I was ahead. Well, thanks for that.[/b] I muttered to the floor, moving out from under his arm to where I was standing again. I felt so short. Still, feeling as if I hadn't thanked him enough and subconciously giving in to the tension, I stepped in, getting up on my tiptoes to kiss his cheek. I wanted to stay. I could feel the heat radiating off his body, the smooth skin of his face. But I moved away, back to the ground. I really appreciated it.[/b] Only a whisper. If I was scared to say it loud, how much had I really appreciated it?

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Word Count 693
OOC He should stop her. (:
All content c) Copyright Awry at Forever and Always.[/size][/blockquote]

[shameless]

‘Isabella, Isabella Leila.’. The simple name almost blindsided me, it was….total beauty. No other name in the world could ever feel so right to me, the name like music for my soul. I could already feel myself getting too attached to the girl, she was starting to stain me. Although no one would ever see her aura’s beautiful pallet mixing with mine, I knew that what was going to happen between us would never be undone. But then again, what was going to happen to us, or between us rather? Was my intuition playing with me a little, or could the connection between us really be this strong already. This girl, this absolutely stunning girl was starting to become a part of me, and I wasn’t going to let her ruin that. Not to get me wrong, I knew full well that nothing she could control was going to impede the process between us, but rather the things she’d embedded into herself, by sheltering the parts of herself she considered weaker away. Those tiny mannerisms is what was going to ruin it for us.

I was about to speak when I fell myself being pulled into a harmless little cheek on the kiss. She was about to leave, and I could not et that happen. Blinking back tiny tears I saw her figure move to leave. The tears were going to flow if I saw her leave, cause I knew, if I didn’t get a proper talk to her now, I most likely never would.

Gently catching her wrist I pulled her softly into a hug. “Bella, please let me take you out for a coffee, I think that you shouldn’t be alone right now. So please for my sanity, will you join me?” Turning on at much charm as possible I smirked at Isabella. Her face was again unreadable, saw some emotion flash across it, but I did not see anything definite. “I promise, I wont bite.” This time I tried to look as serious as possible. This girl needed a little structure, and if no one else would, I’d give it to her.

Realizing that we’d been embracing for too long I let her go, it was so hard. Some instinct in me wanted to keep her with me, together. To support her and give her all she needed. I believed that I was insane for thinking it, but then again love is completely irrational and random. That’s why its so hard to find I guess, in a world where everyone is so busy and is so serious about everything it must be hard to just let the randomness fall upon yourself. Right here, right now, I was having no problem doing that, I would leap from the stairwell for this girl, and I haven’t a reason other than pure true love.


WC: 480