BUMP (ed)

Prologue ~ Red

~“Red”~

 “Cause loving him was like driving a new Maserati down a dead end street.”

 “Faster than the wind, passionate as sin, ending so suddenly.”

“Burning red.”

I don’t regret anything. Anything that had happened between us. I probably should despise him, but I just can’t bring myself to. Despite what happened, I wouldn’t take it back. I wouldn’t give those memories up for anything, even a fresh start at love.  

It’s actually strange looking back at it all. How I changed so much in such a short space of time- how he changed me. How I almost lost myself in his world. Sometimes, on those rare days that the memories come flooding back, I don’t feel sad or alone, I embrace them. Because, no matter what anybody says about what happened in those few months which I knew him, no matter what, I have never felt anything so strongly, I have never felt so alive.

In a way it’s scary, knowing that I will probably never feel that way again. Never see the way he runs his hands through his hair when he’s nervous, the way his eyes light up when he finds something funny. His arrogance that  I secretly loved, or the cockiness that always pushed my buttons- knowing I’ll never have that again. I don’t miss the darkness of his world though. I will never miss that. But I do miss those small happy moments that came with it, where everything was perfect, even just for a little while. The small shimmer of light, shining through the darkness.

Lately I’ve been waiting for him to come back, to drag me back into that nightmare. But he never does. I’m stuck here, in a too perfect world, without him.

I wonder if he knew, when he first saw me, that things would turn out this way. That the innocent, naive girl he met in the park by chance would never, ever be the same again. He changed me so much, so much. And I don’t even hate him for it. I discovered who I was- who I wanted to be. I have him to thank for that.

I don’t know whether I’ll ever see him again. Hell, I don’t know whether I want to see him again.

I miss the rush. The passion that came with him. The danger. How he drove his car so fast, so dangerously, and how I secretly loved it. The feeling of the wind through my hair.

“Cause loving him was like driving a new Maserati down a dead end street.”