Fixed {Reece Bibby}

Chapter 8- Reece

I am walking over to pick up my girlfriend, we both live in the same tiny village and the pub she works at is only a ten minute walk. Rowan is stood there with one leg bent and propped against the old brick wall. She is smiling at me, a bright, pearly smile full of love. Rowan always makes my feel like I'm floating on a cloud and right now is not an exception. She pushes off the wall to greet me - giving me a tight hug that makes me feel like the safest guy on earth.

"Hey." I whisper breathlessly, her floral perfume overpowering me.

"Hi." she replies, her breath fanning my neck.

We start walking to hers- I'm going to stay for a bit, there is a new film out on Netflix that she has been dying to see. The warmth of her hand in mine makes me grin like a goofy idiot but I don't mind one bit. I'm walking slowly beside her as she is on the road on her bike- what looks like a safe distance to the pavement- pedalling slowly. I stop, in turn stopping her, to tuck a strand of her honey blonde hair behind her ear. She turns to me and as usual we get lost in each others eyes. My heart flips and my breath hitches as I feel the love rise in me. I'm going to tell her how I feel tonight. Suddenly a large truck swerves around the blind corner. Rowan's hand tightens in mine, causing bone shattering pain. Time slows at it approaches. A high shriek pierces my heart and suddenly Rowan's hand is not in mine.

A cold shiver wracks my body and I struggle to breathe. The memories flood through me like waves causing my heart to splinter like the timber on an old shipwreck. I really miss her, so f*cking much but i know that we were not intended to be together since the harshness of the universe ripped her precious life away. I am starting to accept it, I mean I have accepted it. I HAVE. I feel the rage surge through me like a live wire and i know it time to get out of my room. A t shirt that had obviously been hurriedly peeled off me catches my eye and before i know it: i'm outside Rowans old house, panting and heaving for breath. The chipped blue paint masking the door catches my breath as the all too familiar ache in my heart throbs to my toes. The old paint was always a disguise to the vibrant, colorful and careful household cocooned within, but now it just stands guard to rooms equal in solitude, an empty house with ghosts reaching out to grasp reality. I often think of Rowan as a ghost- not your stereo typical Halloween costume- but an elegant gust of wind that blows crinkled leaves out of my path and envelopes me in protection, like my own personal angel. With my very own guardian angel in mind i find my feet pounding the pavement once more, a new destination in mind.

Running has always been my go to therapy. Sometimes my need for speed can be overwhelming but i crave the adrenaline rush that partners with the vroom of a motor bike and the sheer-drop of a on a roller coaster. I slow far too quickly, my mind is still in shambles and needs a good sweep out. I let my body guide me across the trodden grass- instinct taking over. A light patch of weeds are growing up the headstone and the thought of life growing in the dark makes me smile because Rowan is- was a beacon of light extinguished before she had a chance to spread her flame, and the weeds are just growing with her legacies. 

Somebody else breaks my nostalgic trance. Breath taking beauty graces me with its presence as a girl sits sobbing over some flowers and a freshly dug grave. My heart drops at the knowledge of eer grief and i want to comfort her, wrap my arms around her and protect her- just like Rowan protected me.

"No Reece! You had your one hope, you don't get a new one." My voice occupies my brain (not something that is particularly unusual) and throws a reality check in my face. Anger clouds my judgement and before I can stop myself my shoe connects with a flower pot and terracotta scatters around me. The girls body tightens in shock and i instantly feel the guilt seep into my veins. She turns her face towards me - hesitantly- and i run.