You'll Play The Romeo, Ill Play The Juilet. (Of Mice & Men)

You Can Be Anything You Want In Life, Just Don't Be A Fucking Bitch

Hi. So guys. I'm so proud of us!!!! We've hit 2.95K!! (:::: ily all.

Lindsay's Point Of View

I shove my hands into my sweatshirt pockets, and keep walking alongside the beach.

The beach is alway extremely beautiful in the morning. The waves of the ocean crawling up the beach, and rolling over my feet sending chills up my back.

I had left early this morning before Austin had woke up. I just feel like I need to clear my head. Rid of all the bad thoughts that are lurking within my head.

I'm living proof that sometimes the mind is a bad place to be. It's something that you have to have the bravery to actually lurk. But I'm not brave. I'm scared.

I'm scared of my past. I'm scared of my secrets. This past three days have been a little rocky for me. Getting lost in my thoughts.

I just think that maybe it's time for me to tell Austin all about my past. I know I've been avoiding it because it's something I have never spoke to anybody about.

It makes me extremely anxious to bring it up. To have the conversation that I've been fearing for a while now.

I make my way back to the house going over how I'm going to bring it up over, and over again in my mind.

My heart flutters and thumps more and more as I reach the house. I walk up to the door and take a moment to take a deep breath, calming myself down.

I push open the door to see a smiling Austin rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he descends the stairs.

"Morning cutie," I say walking into the kitchen, turning the coffee pot on, "want anything for breakfast?"

"Eggs?" He asks with a slight grin and a following yawn.

I make him breakfast, and set the plate in front of him and make my way to the other side of him.

I pull my legs to my chest, and recite what I'm going to say with confidence inside my head for what seems like for the millionth time.

I try to evaluate what the correct time to say anything would be, but I'm easily distracted my the sound of Austin setting his fork down and pushing his plate away from him. He stretches out his back putting his arms in the air.

I quickly take his dishes away from him, loading them into the dish washer and following Austin into the living room.

We sit down in the couch and I hesitantly sit Indian style facing towards him.

"Austin?" I ask as my fear breaks into my voice.

"Yes, babe?" He asks with concern in his eyes, "what is it?"

"I know I probably should have told you sooner, but I haven't told you everything."

"You know you can tell me anything and everything, right?" He says assuringly, grabbing my hands tightly in his.

"When I was about seven years old all I had known was a perfect family. My dad was well paid, but wasn't home as often as I would have liked him to be. My mom worked part time as a teachers aid. My parents always seemed like the perfect couple. They would always dance when they would cook together, they'd always have a good time and they weren't afraid to show that," I say cracking my fingers in anxiousness.

"They were always something that I always wanted to have when I got married. One day my dad came home really late. I remember laying in bed listening to him slamming things around and shouting things at my mom. I remember looking around the corner just in time to see my dad yell vulgar things at my mom, and punching her in the face. I remember her falling to her knees in defeat. I guess I must have made a noise loud enough to have my dad snap his head towards me. He had called me the same things he had called my mother and walked over to me pushing my forcefully into my room, and slamming my bedroom door. The yelling and screaming between my mom and dad went on until I was thirteen. My mom and dad never slept in the same bed anymore. My mom slept in the guest room, and they didn't talk to each other anymore unless they were fighting when my dad came home late. When I turned thirteen I realized my dad was becoming an alcoholic, and it was killing my mom. I remember failing one of my classes, and my mom laid my report card on the counter, and my dad came home and hit me really hard. He hit me a lot for a year or two. I had started to have to wear pants and sweatshirts all the time because my dad would always leave hand prints on my arms and bruises on my legs," I say taking a sip of my coffee.

"I had really started relying on music. It had become my everything. Since I had started wearing band shirts shortly after my mom and dad finally got divorced, I started getting bullied. I remember being bullied from seventh to twelfth grade. I didn't have many friends. My dad vanished from my life as soon as he and my mom were officially divorced. My mom never had enough money to actually send me to collage. So I worked as a part time waitress at a restaurant just down the street. I helped my mom with the bills, food, gas. One day she was driving home from work, and I was sitting at home waiting so we could have a movie night together, and she never came home. She was in an extremely bad car accident leaving her in a coma. After two months of struggling to get by I had signed the papers to have her taken off life support. I got all the money from our bank accounts, got my essentials, and bought a plane ticket from Washington to California."

Austin stared at me for what seemed like forever, but I knew it was only a couple seconds.

"I'm so sorry," he says kissing me, and pulling me into him.

"You're okay now. It's just me, and you. Okay?"

"Okay."