Cut The Love From My Arms

I looked over at a boy, he was standing by a graveside, his dark hair blowing in the gentle summer breeze. His eyes looked softly onto the headstone that was sticking up from the ground. He didn't seem too upset so I guessed that it must have happened a while ago.

I walked over to him, slowly and cautiously. His eyes moved from the headstone to me. I gave him a slight smile and that seemed to ease the tension between us.

"Are you okay?" I asked as I played with my necklace and he closely watched every move I made, I think he could tell I was nervous.

"I'm fine," he said and in one swift motion, he sat, with his legs crossed, on the grass, facing the headstone, "what's your name?"

"I'm Merrissa Tamzan, but everyone calls me Tammy, 'cause of my last name I guess," I replied and he sighed with a slight curl on the end of his lips, "And you are?"

"Daniel, Daniel Carthwate, but everyone calls me Danny," he said, as I smiled and started to turn away and walk back the way I came in the first place, "wait," he yelled after me and I turned back to look at him and he was stood up again, "do you mind if I join you?"

"Of course not," I said with a warm smile and we began to walk down the street as if we were friends when we'd really only just met, and all I really knew about him was his name and that he had lost someone – even if it was a while ago.

We went into the park, it was a fine day after all. He looked at me like he had done before, studying me. I looked at him too, he had piercing green eyes, and very dark brown, almost black hair. He was well built and had self-harming scars on his wrists and I felt my face show the concern I had about them as much as I tried to hid it.

"They don't bother you, do they?" he asked, staring right into my eyes, "if you want, I can go."

"No I don't want you to go, I'm just a little concerned. Just because you have scars doesn't change how I see you. I'm not that shallow," I replied, "maybe we should get to know each other rather than make snap judgements."

He nodded in agreement and we walked over to the park bench to sit down and chat. We sat down and looked at each other, he had a look of relief on his face. It seemed like he was glad I didn't judge him from his self-harming marks.

"So," he said, with a pause, thinking what to ask, "How old are you and what kind of stuff do you like to do?"

"Well, I'm sixteen, I like writing and reading, romance novels mostly. I also love dancing although I don't look like the sort," I answered, gesturing towards my stomach and he pulled a puzzled face.

"There's nothing wrong with your size," he replies, "anyway, I believe it's your turn to ask me something," he grinned and slightly raised his right eyebrow.

"Well, same questions for you, really, only with one extra if you don't mind me asking, who's grave were you visiting this morning?" I asked, feeling guilty about asking that question because there was a very good chance it would upset him.

"Well, I'm 17, I like rock music, animé and I love to draw. I also don't mind you asking about my Gran. She lost the battle with cancer two years ago. Have you ever lost someone you were close to?" he explained.

"Wow, I'm sorry. I lost my Auntie when I was nine. She was the reason I started writing and when she died I was going to stop."

"Why were you going to stop?" he asked sounding confused, "I thought you loved it?"

"I do, but it reminds me so much of her. I made a promise to her before she died, I told her that I will never give up and I will continue writing till I become an author so I will do that and if I die trying, then, at least I can say that no matter what, I never gave up," I explained with a sting of tears in my eyes.