Forgotten

Remembering

Karl POV

The gentle fall breeze blew through my hair as i sat in the middle of the meadow I had found. The flowers were less frequent to cross my line of vision as I surveyed the landscape around me. The sky overhead was a dark grey, proving that rain was coming soon. I could feel and smell the moisture in the atmosphere.

 I had no idea why I wanted to come out here, before a storm no less, but I knew I wanted to stay. There was nothing for me at my home. No mother to talk to, no father to confide in. No loving girlfriend who would help. No friends. 

I pulled my jacket tighter against my body, rolling down the sleeves to cover what I was doing to myself. My t shirt wasn't much protection against the sudden chill of the air, so I zipped up the dark grey material. I was glad that I had chosen to wear jeans on this hike. I pulled my knees up against my chest, and buried my face behind my arms and legs.

"Karl!" I heard a feminine voice drift on the breeze. I ignored it, pulling my knees closer to my body.

"Karl!" The voice called again, this time seeming closer than the first.

"Karl Fink!" The voice was definitely getting closer as I neared me.

"Karl, I can see you, so come out of that dumb position now!" There was no doubting who the voice belonged to now. Only one person I knew would talk to me like that.

I let out a loud sigh, slowly unwrapped my arms and legs, and stood up. I kept my gaze firmly on the flattened grass beneath my shoes. I refuses to look at the person in front of me. 

I felt a small, warm hand rest on the skin of my cheek, thumb wiping away the tears I never even knew were flowing. I let my head lean into the girls touch, knowing I would soon regret it. "Hey, baby." The girl whispered.

I squirmed underneath her touch now. "Hey."

"How's my little Lesley doing." She teased.

"I told you not to call me that." I complained.

"I know." She whispered.

I finally got up enough strength to look at her. I slowly raised my head, her hand still resting on my cheek. Her beautiful eyes looked into my own. I felt more tears leek out of the corners of my eyes. Her long, soft, blonde hair blew around her face in a golden halo. She removed her hand from my cheek, and I immediately felt cold from the loss. She moved her hand to my hair, and began to run her fingers through my brown hair.

"I know you're not real.....Avery." I whispered to her.

A sad smile bloomed on her face. "I know." She said as she continued to run her hand through my messy hair.

"Why are you here." It wasn't a question. It was a demand. A demand to know why she was hurting my heart the way she was.

"Cause you need me." She moved her hand from my hair to my shoulder. Resting it. She looked into my eyes again. "You need me to help you get a grip on yourself." 

I turned away, dislodging her hand from my body. "I don't need a grip. I know full well what I'm doing."

She sighed, and hugged me from behind, her hands barely touching each other. "Oh, do you? Then what is this?" She suddenly was out in front of me, tearing the sleeve of my jacket off, exposing dozens of small, shallow cuts all up my arm. 

Despite the growing cold, my face heated up, and I snatched my torn sleeve from her hand. "It's called depression. Ever heard of it? Oh wait, no you haven't because you don't have to go through what I'm going through every day not seeing you!" I snapped, anger rushing through my body. What I did while she was away, living it up in that dumb house of hers, not caring who I was or what I was doing with myself, was NONE of her business.