Burn (Book 2)

Chapter One

SEPERATION. SEPERATION. SEPERATION. I know what separation feels like. I've lived and dealt with it my whole life. My father abandoned me when I was ten, my mother died when I was twelve, my cousin committed suicide when I was twelve as well—perhaps even thirteen then. My brother died when I was fourteen in a hurricane that should have killed me too. Now, my boyfriend, John Laurens, has separated from me as well when he promised me he wouldn't leave me. 

 Well, you know what they say: Don't make promises you can't keep. 

 It's been a month since John left for the Carolinas. 

 A whole month without him. 

 A whole month of a burning desire to be with him, to be in his arms once more. 

 A whole month of worrying about his safety and worrying and waiting and praying that he doesn't do anything stupid. 

 A whole entire month since my last and probably final kiss I shared with him before he got on that train.

 A whole month of without him at school. It feels weird now to walk down those always claustrophobic halls of King's High School without John by my side, sneaking occasional kisses to my lips or to my freckled cheeks, having his muscular arm around my shoulder as he walks me to class with our closest friends beside us as well.

 A whole month. 

 A whole month. 

 I thought I'd get better. I'd thought I'd move on. I mean, he's not dead. At least, not yet anyways. He's still alive from last I heard, doing combat training and completing his orders and duties. He did warn me that he would be encountering battle soon. But they don't know when.

 A whole month of quietness. 

A whole month of emptiness and loneliness. I feel like I'm back where I started at the very beginning: cold and alone. Empty. Bare. Exposed. I haven't talked much since I sent that letter to John which was a month ago. I haven't participated in any class discussions much like I used too. I barely ate. I barely was myself. 

 A whole month without him. A whole month of endless nightmares with horrifying scenarios of his death. A whole month of clenching fear of losing the only man I have ever loved in my life. A whole month of fear that he'd break his promise. That he'd break his promise to come back to me. 

 It's now early December. The weather is starting to turn from a cool autumn breeze to a frigid cold winter. I've officially been at King's High School for little over three months now. It's hard to believe it's already three months since I first stepped foot into that school and a month from my birthday. Well, you know what they say: time sure flies. 

 There's that word again: Time. This word also seems to haunt me everywhere I go. George's wise words when he gave me Uncle Lawrence's watch echo through my mind: Time is prominent, Alexander. It can go away before you even realize it.

I sit on my bed—no, our bed—on a Monday morning, the sun just starting to rise behind the steel skyscrapers across the street, making the midnight black sky turn into a dark, navy-blue sky with hints of dark orange and gray rising, indicating the sun is just behind them. The skyscrapers tower over me, flashing bright advertisements for clothing and food brands along with new singles from artists and trailers for upcoming movies. There're a few pedestrians milling about, but not many. I can hear them faintly chattering down below, laughing at one another as café shops next to our apartment dings when the costumer enters or exits. Cars zoom down the interstates. Stars scatter across the dark sky, twinkling beautifully like my freckles.