A Penny For My Thoughts ~ phan

SUSPECT #7

Name: Copper Richardson

DOB: 8/24/88

Relation to Daniel J. Howell: none

That boy knows how to get me riled up.

Yes, it was a long time ago that we dated. No, I'm not crazy.

Phil Lester broke me at the tender age of eighteen. He smashed me to the floor and dug his shoe into my fragile pieces and didn't even bother to sweep me back up. Once upon a time, he had swept me off my feet. And he still does every time I catch him out in public, when our eyes meet for a glorious second and my heart becomes the loudest sound in the place. I hate it. I need to make it stop.

How else will I finally say goodbye to my rose-tinted glasses once and for all? Because everyone knows that the world is not made of soft hues and prince charmings. The world was made to beat you down.

I was certain he would say yes. The restaurant charged ten dollars for water but I only experienced content as I watched him play with his lobster. "You know, my mum is a lobster," he said with those big eyes, his lips turning thin with mock sincerity. Humoring him as always, I took a sip of water and nodded like a true intellectual, yearning for him to go on with his story. It would go in a decorative jar next to our wedding photo smack dab in the middle of our coffee table. Every guest would coo and praise at our fairytale ending. When all went to plan.

He drew a picture of his lobster mother with his words, shaming the four star establishment for devoiding him of crayons. We talked of only small things, joking the whole way through like stupid kids. It's safe to say that we were just stupid kids, stupidly in love, struck stupid by our wildest intentions. Yet, mine were just as well thought out as the next guys. Far fetched, maybe, but not stupid.

If something brings you joy then it sure isn't dumb.

That's what I was thinking as I touched up my hair one last time before getting down on one knee, anyway. In a room full of posh strangers who had already given us two scruffy emo teens plenty of dissatisfied glances, I asked the man of my dreams to be mine forever. The four worded question bounced around my head even after saying it, only falling still at the smattering of fear across the face of my love.

"You know I love you, Copper but I'm just a boy. I can barely do taxes let alone get married. I'm sorry. I really am. Ask me again in fifteen years and I promise I'll say yes."

But fifteen years was much too long for my taste. Eleven whole years have gone by filled with anger and little of anything else. After I put my heart on the line and got rejected by the one, he decided the best thing he could do was say goodbye. For himself, that is. He didn't once think of me.

Even when that's all I ever do.

The anger is always raging. It just tends to take breaks between the times I run into something that reminds me of that merciless heartbreaker. Or someone.

To put it simply, there aren't many like him in this town. He's special, stands out in the crowd whether I want him to or not. These days, I lean more towards not. And that laser cat shirt was certainly something he would wear.

I did what any vengeful shell of a man would do. Can you really blame me?