"I'm too strong to cry,
Yet too weak to die.
But don't worry, you'll see me again someday.
You'll see me full of life,
Rather than full of strife.
Because don't worry, you'll see my true, vivid self again someday.
When I'm fighting to be me,
Instead of fighting to be free,
Don't worry, you'll see me fighting again someday.
You won't see me fighting for you,
Because I need to be fought for, too.
Still don't worry, you'll see me protecting you again someday.
When you become a part of me,
Instead of trying to flee,
Please don't worry, you'll see us together again someday.
When you and I are one,
And all my fighting is done,
We won't need to worry, because we'll be together again today."
-Yours Truly
•••
I believe to this day the scariest thing of this world is the unknown. Do monsters really spend their nights watching me sleep? Do demons play hide and seek in my closet? Do the thoughts that haunt me at night really lurk in the darkness? Based on this logic, the only cure for fear is knowledge. The monsters need sleep, too. The demons play much more than hide and seek. The thoughts don't exist in the darkness, but however the air--all around me, all the time. Most people believe fear is irrelevant. That monsters and demons are myths, that you cannot fear your own thoughts. But these people are who should be pitied most for their terror. Monsters are visible, tangible, and the realist thing I have ever known.
Twice a week. One all together, one alone. I come in, I sit down, I speak my empty thoughts to Maureen, my recovery therapist. About Lyla, about my "dad," Doug Lenmar, about how they both forgot my face. It's hard to see through a grave. He didn't deserve one. Sometimes I talk about that woman who raised me. For her useful information, she was confirmed release, but only with the promise to return back to the U.S. Other times I talk about my memories of One Direction. Sometimes I even throw in a bit about Toby. Most times, however, I talk about the day. The one day that changed my life.
Sometimes it comes back to me in pictures. A lonely, cunning man. A bright-colored cop car. A girl I loved and a girl I lost fall to the ground. A gun pressed to my head. And finally the corpse lying on the ground.
Other times it comes to me in feelings. A strong grip. A calloused hand. A cold metal. A deep thick liquid.
Most times, however, I can only hear. A rough voice with a timbre forever stained on my memory. A siren so loud it cracks my voice. A firing of a bullet lodged in loss. And one gone forever in a pool of real hate and false love.
But that's long in the past now.
What isn't in the past however is my new life. The one I was given when the one I knew disappeared. But on to introductions.
I am Jean Noelle Meyer. Born in Anaheim, California. Second of three children born to Thomas and Lucine Meyer.
My sisters are really nice. They'll never compare to Lyla, but who can? Then again they are blood. American blood for that matter. Lyla and I apparently are too. You can still find our Missing Persons' reports hanging in every police station in California and Maui, where we're apparently from. Our families were really happy to meet us after so many years. It was weird to meet someone else called "Mom." She started crying when she saw me and I couldn't figure out why. She hugged me like crazy and it was really uncomfortable. My real dad said they all apparently thought I was dead. I guess 7 years does that to a person.
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And Then There Were Seven «1D»
Fanfiction"I bet you weren't expecting any of this when you picked two little girls up off the streets," I say dryly, remembering the first time I met them. "You're probably right," Zayn speaks from in between us, "but we also didn't expect to love those two...
