Hey! I was letting my over-active imagination run wild again, and this is the result! Hope you like!
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PROLOGUE***
Her everlasting beauty was right in front of me. I was looking down at the one picture of her that I kept while waiting for the hours of the dreary car ride to end. The picture was of us on the bank of a river that ran through the park we used to meet up at. It was a beautiful sunny day. I was on top of her pinning her arms above her head. She was laughing. Her newly short-cropped dark-brown hair was blowing in the Louisiana summer breeze. Her light-blue eyes sparkled in the sunlight. The light blue tank-top she wore fit nicely on her curvy body. She was chubby, but I still thought she was beautiful. Callia. My Callia. My Queen. My Beautiful Queen. How dare I think that? She was no longer mine, and it was all my fault. I loved her, I still love her, and I ended it. I ended "us."
The last time I saw her was an image burned in my mind that I'd rather forget. A sight of her, on her knees in her front yard, crying. I had told her that I didn't love her anymore, and watched her heart shatter, while I drove away, down the street, and onto the highway. After every time I told her I'd never leave her, all the times I told her I loved her, after I tried so hard to gain her trust after her heart had been broken once, I went back on every word I ever said. She was someone I didn't deserve, yet she loved me anyway, and I broke her, after I promised I wouldn't. And the truth is, I lied.
We met on a bus-ride home from school. It was near the end of seventh grade. I had just moved to Louisiana from Texas. I was fifteen, having failed once and started school late. I thought she was older, only to find her a mere thirteen year old. She acted so much older, so mature. She didn't think much of me until the beginning of eighth grade. I tried my best to save a seat for her on our bus everyday. We became good friends....and I grew to like her.
She healed me after my slut of an ex-girlfriend back in Texas dumped me after telling me she had been fucking my best friend. She healed me without knowing it. All she had to do was be there, and be who she was, which is exactly what she did. "Well this Chelsea person sounds like a whore, and I'm not so sure about this best friend of yours." That was something she always said that made me smile.
By the time I got the stones to tell her that I liked her and to ask her out, she was trying to get the courage to say the same to me. It went great...for two weeks, then she dumped me. Turns out her heart had been broken by some ninth grader over the summer, and ever since she couldn't feel anything for anyone. She was numb. I knew all too well how she felt. But I let her go. Yeah, it hurt, but Callia was too special to make suffer. But little did I know she was suffering because of having to dump me.
One month later she began to talk to me again. I saved her a seat everyday, rain or shine. Although our bus-ride together was only ten minutes due to Callia being the second stop, it seemed to last a lifetime. The conversations we had never seemed to want to end. There was always something to talk about, a trait Chelsea never seemed to exhibit.
Long story short: We fell in love. We didn't exactly get back together, but I knew I belonged to her, and was dam happy about it. The park was the halfway mark between our houses. That's where we always used to meet up. The talking would take place during school, the physical part of our relationship was only shown outside of school, normally at the park.
Callia was a scratcher. She was also a biter, which I grew to love. I was never much of a masochist, but she loved the little things that caused her pain while having fun. She was my little demon. She growled, scratched, and bit, and I let her. Every time I came home with the marks, my mom would ground me for some reason like "You didn't answer your calls," but I knew she was just pissed about the blood dripping from my arms and the hickies on my neck. Although Callia normally licked up the blood...
