The Key To Your Heart | Teen Fiction

Three|| Truly Fighting

Starting right now, I'll be strong

I'll play my Fight song,

And I don't really care if nobody else believes,

'Cause I've still got a lot of fight left in me

("Fight Song" by Rachel Platten)

The Key To Your Heart ✴ Chapter Three

The boy bought his ticket and went inside. And that was it. 

He hadn't even been a huge part of my day. So why was it that for the rest of that day and all the next, I couldn't forget about him? He hadn't been anything out of the ordinary. But those eyes. I couldn't get them out of my mind.

This wasn't like me at all. Why did I care about someone's eyes? Especially someone who wouldn't give a second thought to me. In his mind, I was probably just 'that girl who sold him a movie ticket'.

I didn't even know his name.

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I wasn't exactly sure why I kept so many magazines in my room. I didn't even like looking at them. But it was something to do when I was bored. I flipped through the pages of the one that was in my hand, but only to find myself rolling my eyes once again. I knew none of the things displayed on these pages were real. All those perfect people with perfect lives. No one lived that fantasy.

Behind those plastered-on smiles, they were just like me. Lost.

Lost and confused.

I reached down a picked up another magazine from underneath my bed. It was a teen magazine that showed the relationships of all the hottest celebrities. That couldn't be real either, could it?

Most of me was sure that that was fake too. Just like everything else that the media made up. But there was still that tiny part of me that was hoping that maybe, just maybe, I'd find true love one day.

True love.

After flipping through a few magazines worth of lies, I debated where I should go get my coffee. But it didn't take long before I decided upon the same thing I choose every time. Hawkins Diner.

In less than two minutes, I had escaped out the door, mounted my bike, and was off.

The weather was fairly average for a fall morning. And the wind felt amazing. I always loved windy weather; I felt free when it was that kind of weather. Wind represented freedom.

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The local Diner had the delightful aroma of fresh baked bread as soon as you walked in. The air wasn't too cold and it gave just the right vibe to make you feel good. Maybe that's why I came here so often.

I let out a deep sigh as I took a seat at the counter booth.

I didn't need a menu, I already knew it like the back of my hand.

Only seconds later, Mrs Hawkins, the owner, came to wait on me with her usual smile on her face.

"Good morning, Jade." She greeted me cheerfully. "What can get for you today? Your usual?"

"No, just a coffee, please."

"Sure thing, Honey." She paused, taking in my unusual sullen mood. "Is there something wrong?"

"Life is wrong." I replied dryly. "Other than that, everything's completely fine."

She gave me a look like she completely understood what I meant. But at the same time, she was ready to give me some sort of encouragement. One of the many reasons why I liked her. She was much like a mother figure for me, especially since all of the friction between me and my mom.

I explained to Mrs. Hawkins how stressed I'd been lately. It was pretty much the same things I told her every time. But I was up to here with all the things in my life that were trying to shoot me down.

"I'm not going to let it get to me though." I told her. "I'm tougher than that."

"Now, that's the spirit." She winked at me. "You keep pressing on, Jade. I promise it's all going to work out in the end."

"Maybe..."

Maybe, it would. Maybe it would all work out in the end. But I just didn't see how.

That night, I went home and I cried. For no reason and for every reason.

Lately I just hadn't been as tough as I should be. I hadn't been fighting hard enough. I was letting life get to me and it wasn't good.

That was one of the reasons why I had been hanging out with Zay and Quinn. They were teaching me how to be tough. How to be stronger than my circumstances.

I wanted my dad to be proud of me. But...but...

"I don't know how much longer I can do it, Daddy." I whispered, tears still staining my cheeks and streaking my make-up. "I'm fighting, I truly am. But I'm just not sure how much longer I can hold on."

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