Down The Train Tracks *Jason McCann*

Down The Train Tracks. ~Ch.16 ["Hello world, I'm your wild girl."]

Jason.

It’s been two weeks. Two weeks since I took it from her. I beat myself up every day, I have nightmares, every time I close my eyes I see Melody’s arm covered in blood. I don’t know what to do, how can I live the rest of my life like this? Knowing what I did…

But, then again, I wouldn’t of lived a day if I didn’t do it, she wouldn’t have either.

I don’t care if I die, but I need to protect her. I needed to protect Melody. I just, I couldn’t let him hurt her. There are so many horrible things that could have happened if I didn’t do it, and she knows that. But, obviously, she’s still hurt. She’s still really hurt.

She’s lost it. The only way I can describe it, is like an elastic band; the more you stretch it, the harder it’s going to snap back. It can only be stretched so far before it snaps. All the shit that has happened to her has stretched her out over the years, pulled and pulled; it just built up and kept stretching.

What I did two weeks ago pulled it to its limit, and she just snapped. She’s gone absolutely insane. That elastic band inside her snapped, and she doesn’t know how to deal with it. She doesn’t know how to handle herself, she’s just… She’s completely lost it.

Footsteps stomped down the stairs, immediately I knew it was Melody, and walked into the kitchen. I stood up, walking over to her. She opened cabinets, looked in presses, searching for something.

“What are you looking for?” I asked, curiously.

I worry about her a lot now. It’s hard not to.

“Headache tablets,” she stated simply, rummaging through some drawers.

“Oh, why, do you have a headache?” I walked up to her. She turned around to face me, and I put my hand on her forehead to check to see if she had a fever.

“No, and don’t touch me.”

“Why are you looking for headache tablets if you don’t have a headache?” I asked, ignoring the second part of her sentence.

She pulled herself up and sat on the counter, playing with her tongue bar.

“Aren’t you a bit young to have a tongue piercing?”

“Aren’t you a bit old to have taken someone who’s too young to have a tongue piercing?”

I sighed. Looking at her, I saw she was only wearing a pair of my boxers, and my plaid blue shirt, which she had only fastened a few of the buttons of. Her long brown hair fell in knotted waves down to her stomach. I gazed back up at her face; she was still playing with her tongue bar. I took a step closer.

I kept looking at her, as I was taking steps closer to the counter she was sitting on. When I was a step away from her, she stopped playing with the piercing, and looked up at me, her feelings were un-readable.

“Melody, I,” I began, contemplating on whether or not I should touch her –I didn’t. “I really am so-”

“Don’t say it,” she said in monotone, cutting me off short.

“No, but I-”

“I said don’t say it Jason,” she barked, slightly aggravated.

An awkward silence filled the room, tension in the air. It stayed that way for a while, until I saw Melody perk up.

“Do you have a scissors?”

I walked over to a drawer on the other side of the kitchen, and hesitantly held out the scissors to her.