Loving the Wrong Man

The Beginning

It was another day in our hometown. We never left. At the time, we didn't know why everyone stayed well within the dark wall that surrounded our little settlement. We just assumed that this was all there was to the world.

"Is Carter getting on your nerves?" the older boy asked. Dave was only seven when he'd asked me this; I was five. "Yes," I had said, giving Carter a childish frustrated look. "C'mon. You don't have to talk to him," Dave had smiled slightly, before turning and walking away.

He was always mature for his age. His dark hair was always long, stringy and lank, much like his father's. He was tall for his age, and always thin. I never thought much of it.

I followed him, still frustrated from Carter's being a pest. We ended up watching his two little sisters playing in the pool.

At the time, our little village was the only place in the world we knew of. It wasn't until later that we would recognize it as a sort of prison. At the time, we were children, who didn't know the horrors of the world.

His sisters- Mary-Jane and Daisy- were playing, and we were sitting with his mother, Mrs. Jessica.

"Are you not going to play?" Mrs. Jessica asked with a smile, looking over at us. Dave shrugged and looked at me. I had already gotten up, going to play with the younger girls.

That evening, after retreating indoors at curfew, I spotted Dave in the corner, reading a book. I'd walked over, trying to read the cover of the book upside-down, but I wasn't a very good reader, and the only thing that happened was I drew his attention away from the book.

I don't remember exactly the title of the book, but I remember him reading it to me. I remember it being about a guy, who was special. He had this enemy, who was really evil. The guy was practically a super hero- he managed to jump in whenever the bad guy would try to ruin other people's lives. It probably wasn't an appropriate book for kids, but no one stopped us from reading it.

That was how we first became friends; from that moment on, I was always hanging around him, whether he liked it or not. He always shrugged things off- I remember distinctly how much I used to let it bother me.

"So, what are you going to read next?" I asked, trying to skip rocks on the lake like he did. He simply shrugged, taking the bulky rock I was holding out of my hand and replacing it with a flat one, demonstrating how to throw it. His rock skipped five times.

Mine sunk without skipping once.

"How do you do that!" I finally sat down, frustrated. "Quit shrugging," I glanced at him, and he shrugged again. He laughed at the look I gave him, skipping another rock.

I got back up and tried to skip another rock, but again, it simply sank. "Alright, you're throwing it wrong," he finally said, before demonstrating how to "properly" skip a rock.

As I still failed, he picked up another rock, placing it in my hand, showing me in detail how to hold it. He then took my arm and moved it in the motion I needed to throw it in, before stepping back to allow me to try. Finally, it skipped- once. "How did I do that!" I said happily, and in return, he shrugged. "Ugh, you always shrug," I sigh, and, slightly amused, he shrugs again. "Dave!" I laughed, before attempting to tackle him.

He fell back, letting me win, laughing. I was laughing, too.

And so, it continued. We grew close; the only person who knew me better than him was my sister, Izzy- and even then, there were some things I hadn't told even her that he knew about. Like that one time I kissed Jayden on the cheek when I was twelve- which was a terrible crime, of course.

Dave "wholeheartedly" agreed.