Scars and Souvenirs

Nine

It's a little shorter than all the others but I hit a wall which is partially why it's taken me so long to update, so sorry about that. But yeah, I'd say there's only a few chapters left - but knowing me it might be more, it might be less, but heh, we'll see. 

Enjoy! :)
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Exactly a week after she left Inverness Taylor found herself in a nightclub, there weren't many on the Stony Isle, two if the one for people under eighteen counted the same as the one the nineteen year old was currently stood in.

  Unlike every other girl her age finding fun in their Saturday nights, up dancing on random boys and away doing inappropriate things in dirty places, Taylor sat in her booth in the corner, a tray of five shots out in front of her alongside her bottle of wine. She despised wine, it made her throat itch and her mouth dry, but she took a swig from the bottle anyway. Her obvious friendless state didn't bother her, she could've invited Hunter or Callum along for the ride but she'd been in self pity mode since she arrived home late Sunday evening. And she was terrified she'd tell Hunter the truth about who she really was, about the disgusting monster that lay under a seemingly beautiful face. Dr Grace had been pestering her, pressing to have another appointment before it slipped into mid December. But Taylor was fine. Broken in ways that nobody could fix with skin so repulsive her own boyfriend hated her, but still fine. Or at least that was what she chanted over and over in her head when she found herself with nothing but time and blackness in the stupid hours of the day.

  Tipping her head back she swallowed two more shots, the burn not phasing her the way it did barely two years ago. A couple passing sent her a strange look as they walked passed her table, and Taylor was amazed they managed to peal themselves off of each other long enough to do so. She and Hunter used to be like that. Always looking for an excuse to touch the other, always staring into each others eyes like the key to life itself could be found in their depths. She missed it. Since Taylor left Matthew at that ungodly hour all she wanted was Hunter, his touch, his reassurance that she was still His Mykaelah and she was still beautiful and perfect and everything had all been some twisted dream. She wished she was sixteen again and so deliriously in love that it physically hurt her to spend any time away from him. She wanted her family, the warmth of her mother's arms, the smell of her father's aftershave, the sound of Bradley's voice nagging in her ear. She wanted them, she needed them, more than she'd ever needed anything in her life.

  After downing her last shot she spotted him. True, she'd never met the greasy haired man in her life but she knew straight away. Smiling to herself she rose unsteadily to her feet and staggered over, a sense of relief washing over her as she handed him the money and he handed her the little plastic bag.

******
  Matthew arrived on Stony Isle with a headache to rival that of someone suffering extreme head trauma. Never in his twenty four years of life had he felt the need to get completely and utterly shitfaced, but the night before proved too hard for him to resist. He'd barely had a four pack of beer before he found himself on the floor confessing his love to the obnoxiously large potted plant in the lobby of the Fraser family home. He'd never been much of a drinker.
 
  Driving onto Low Shore harbour he made his way through the meandering roads at the bottom of valleys, far below the tops of the snow covered mountains. He didn't go too fast, even with his guilt eating at his insides, he didn't feel that driving off a cliff was the best way to deal with it.

  He was opting to stay at a B&B outside High Shore for that particular visit, knowing he was there for Taylor's performance and nothing else. They hadn't spoken but she'd still sent him the date and time, no kisses, simple. He couldn't blame her. What he'd said may have been the truth but he should have approached the subject the way any seemingly loving boyfriend would; with patience and calm. He'd flipped that night, and he couldn't blame her for leaving.