Can't Afford To Lose Another Second With You (Scömìche)

One More Week

One more week.

Holy hell.

It's been four years since I started going to Martin High School, only four years ago I'd been an awkward freshman with no friends at all and now I was dating the hottest guy in the world. I seriously couldn't complain.

Even though my life's had a lot of ups and downs, probably more downs than your average person's, I felt good. For the first time in forever, I could truthfully say that I was fine. The thought warmed my heart and I felt myself smile, and I didn't care that I was the only person standing in the hallway, pressing my books to my chest and awkwardly smiling to myself.

I had just gotten out of English class - we had been dismissed a few minutes early - and I was waiting by my locker for Scott to come. My heart skipped a beat when I thought of him, the guy that had turned my life upside down with his mere existence. I couldn't thank him enough for gripping me tight, lifting me out of that hole I'd been in and not letting go of me even though I was hitting him with all of my strength. Even when I pushed him away he stayed, loyal as he is, giving, pure perfection.

It didn't mean I didn't feel bad for pushing him away. We had gone by without really talking for a good two months, and honestly, I felt horrible. But circumstances wouldn't have it any other way. There was no point in beating myself up for something that already happened. I had chosen to stay away from him, trying to make the whole situation at least a bit more bearable by giving him space. Space and time he needed to fall out of love with me. Well, we know how that went. But whoever was responsible for it, whatever higher power, whatever deity was behind it, whether it was God himself, whoever it was seemed to truly love me because how else would I ever get close to a boy like Scott. How else would he happen to literally stumble upon me while he was just getting some fresh air. How else would I finally be able to open myself up to anyone, let alone Mr. Hot Stuff himself. How else would I end up in his room on Christmas, kissing the hell out of him.

But although the wound in my heart was slowly healing, it was still there, and everytime I thought of things that happened last winter, I always felt a tug on my heart, reminding me of the pain I once felt. The pain that brought me to almost end my life. The unbearable guilt that I felt because I had fucked up. Hell, I had fucked up big time, and there was no way I could ever undo that. But people change, people move on. People get better. It's horrible to think that it took me that lie to realize what I was doing, and then while running away from myself I made one mistake after the other, unleashing the monster inside of me. But the monster was gone. It wasn't coming back, ever again.

They say you can't see the light when you haven't experienced darkness. And right now, I was being blinded. I have never been as happy as I was now, and I promised myself to never, ever let myself fall that deep again.

I didn't need therapist appointments anymore. My last meet up with Dr. Clarke had been about a month ago, and she had told me that this life that I was living now would soon take a new turn and I would be able to start over. Damn, if I didn't smile at that realization. Living my dream of becoming a fashion designer, going to Academy of Art and designing for the New York Fashion Week - it still sounded surreal, but in just a week, I'd be heading off to San Francisco in beautiful Sunny State California. My flight was boarding at 2:45pm on Sunday afternoon. It was real.

But Scott wasn't coming along. I wouldn't physically see him for a few months, and that thought broke my heart in a matter of seconds.

Scott's beautiful voice pulled me out of my thoughts.

"Hey, gorgeous," he smiled and pressed a kiss to my lips, but he was quick to realize that I wasn't feeling too well.

"Hey, what's wrong, honey?"